Elements
by TMBlue
Summary: Post-DH Ron/Hermione, prompted by properties of the elements in the periodic table.
1. Hydrogen

_**A/N:** Yes, I used the periodic table as a prompt... This had been sitting in my "in progress" pile for some time, and with R/Hr's "ship week" happening over on tumblr, I figured I might as well go for a few of these...  
_

 _Each chapter will be prompted by the properties of an element. This has been all kinds of fun, so far..._

 _Rated M for future chapters. This chapter is more of a K+...  
_

* * *

 _Hydrogen is the lightest and most abundant chemical element, constituting roughly 75% of the Universe's chemical elemental mass. Naturally occurring elemental hydrogen is relatively rare on Earth._

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 **1\. Hydrogen**

 **12 May 1998**

They stood amidst a crowd, and he could feel the hollow place where others had been, even those he hadn't known so well. It was a glaring, rumbling note of absence that haunted the still-crumbling walls as they lived, now free, inside a castle they'd once called home. Her hair was at his shoulder, and knew he could always look and find her there. Merely knowing she would not leave his side made the air around him lighter, easier to breathe.

They'd spent ten days in sadness, red-rimmed eyes and silence over the dead. He'd lost his brother, and yet he'd run out of tears to cry. He'd run out of things to say long before that. He could not recall the last words he'd actually spoken to her, and he felt a pang of guilt as her fingers laced with his. He could be better for her. And maybe he hadn't been what she'd needed, all the time. But she'd always been exactly what _he'd_ needed.

He could not have imagined a more perfect ending for the two of them, with the knowledge that she wanted to be with him after everything. Unfortunate, then, that he'd not been able to speak. Though so many people had someone there for them today, he felt oddly singular in his love just then, holding Hermione's hand. And it must be rare, this feeling of peace, for a moment, weightless. He could have a future, now. And she could. Was there any reason to keep on stretching the days and waiting for pain to fade? There never really was.

"Come with me?" he asked, gently, tugging her hand. And she nodded, following him out of the Great Hall, into the dull echoing whispers of the crowd from behind them as they descended the front steps, into the night.

The air was cool for mid-May, tickling the overgrown hairs on the back of his neck. But her hand was warm in his, and he clutched her more tightly as he crossed the grounds, headed for a moonlit, partially hidden tree, just before the long slope downward, toward the lake. He paused under the tree's branches, dropping her hand only long enough to turn and face her, taking her other wrist in his fingers instead.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned voice floating on a light breeze, stars glimmering in her darkening eyes.

"I am now."

He bent and kissed her top lip, so soft and short, enough to be brave. And he felt her break into goose flesh as he traced his fingertips up her arm to pause at the skin of her exposed collarbone.

"It's so obvious now," he sighed scratchily, clearing his throat as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, heavier than they were before, as she smiled softly back up at him. "I don't know why I waited so long. I really don't."

"It's only obvious because now you know I love you," she whispered.

His stomach lurched with excitement, perfection in words she'd said so casually, like they'd always been there, waiting.

"I hadn't meant- blimey! I was trying to say... _obvious_ because I know what _I_ want, and-" he paused to swallow back his own rambling words as he tried to still his overactive heart. "But, bloody hell, I _didn't_ know that you _actually_... I guess I _didn't_... But, you _do_? You really-"

"Oh," she squeaked, eyes wide. Evidently, she had thought the whole thing too obvious for him to question... as if of _course_ he already knew.

He grinned, unable to continue, and she blushed in the moonlight.

"Sorry," he whispered in a low-toned, raspy voice. "I dunno what- Hermione... What-"

But she shook her head, shyly grinning back at him, and she tugged his hand, pulling him down to sit atop the soft, cold grass beneath the tree.

"You weren't making any sense," she explained, sensibly. "Want to try again?"

She bit her lip lightly, and he laughed, shaking his head. He scooped her neck into the palm of his hand and softly tilted into her, angling his lips against hers to fit perfectly as they closed their eyes.

He felt the gentle pressure of her fingers against the sides of his neck as he kissed her, and he relaxed every muscle in his body until he'd pulled back enough to wrap an arm around her waist and tug her down sideways, to lie on the grass, facing each other.

She laughed softly as he studied every curve of her face, lines and tiny freckles, barely visible. And he smiled because he knew, in contrast, that she could see so very many freckles against his own pale skin. How different they were, really, and how perfect. How unbelievable that at the end, he'd been rewarded. For nothing. For a life he'd never counted for too much before. Of course he'd wanted to live. But now, with no proper place to be or plans to make, he could live for her. And that was essentially, exactly, what _she_ wanted in return.

He watched her swallow, nervous.

Realising he had yet to tell her all he had to say, his eyebrows shot up and he tensed momentarily beside her.

"What is it?" she asked, slightly alarmed.

Sod it. There was only one thing, honestly.

"I love you, too," he said, so sincerely. "That's all I was trying to say before, really."

Tears glowed in her eyes as he watched her, his own chest still tight with open wounds. He might have them there, the absence of his brother... the weight of it. He might keep them forever. But he gathered her into both of his arms, turning onto his back until she was lying half on top of him.

He marveled at her weightlessness and the ease with which they fit together. So much of what was left of him was made up of her. And he'd never had to try. She'd become such an integral, entwined part of his existence. He could almost irrationally wonder if red, yellow and blue would look a shade different if he'd never met her. Could he honestly have never known what it was like, to love her? Was there a way on earth he could have lived without her?

Was it just that he'd picked the right card, unknowingly?

She kissed his neck, and he fluttered his eyes shut, and she gathered him closely, tighter, as if somehow, someway, they could melt down into the same, unending person, forever.

"Come home with me," he said, and though he'd meant a new home, something they hadn't said before, he knew she'd say yes. Brilliantly, he absolutely knew.

He knew that he wasn't done being afraid, too heavy with loss. He knew that he'd have moments he'd regret, days when he'd wake up and the world wouldn't look quite as bright as it did tonight, even with the sun tucked away and the black veil of nearly midnight stretching thickly overhead. But, if after all they'd been through so far, she really still wanted him...

He didn't dare to expect she'd never change her mind. But, for now, knowing that she was with him, tonight... knowing that she loved him and _had_ loved him and wanted him to go on loving _her_...

It was more than enough.


	2. Helium

_Helium is a colorless, odorless, tasteless, non-toxic, inert, monatomic gas that heads the noble gas group in the periodic table. Its boiling and melting points are the lowest among the elements, and it exists only as a gas except in extreme conditions._

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 **2\. Helium**

 **28 May 1998**

Their Muggle hotel room was too dark. He'd never stayed in a place like this before, and when he'd woken to use the loo, after she'd fallen asleep, he'd forgotten where she'd said the switch was, to turn on the electric lights. As he maneuvered back toward the bed, hands feeling blindly out ahead of him for obstacles, he heard her moan in her sleep. Unable to see her, he froze at the sound, blinking in the vague direction of the bed. He should have taken his wand, from the bedside table, but he'd been too confident he'd be able to find the lights.

He hardly breathed as he stood there, unmoving. Honestly, the noise from Hermione had startled him, and not because he was concerned for her... though he supposed he should be, if her dreams were disturbing her. No, he had felt a jolt of elation, after days of near silence and apathy. He had never seen her like that before, and it scared him more than her tears. Though he'd likely have been shocked at himself a year ago, he could handle her tears now. He knew how to be there for her because it was simply that- being there. But silence, blankness... he hadn't known how to respond.

Over the past forty-eight hours, he'd begun to contemplate resorting to methods that could be considered quite mad, a few of which he had actually attempted. He'd deliberately scattered his clothes around the room, watching with disappointment as she silently picked up after him, later in the evening. He'd peppered a conversation with increasingly crude jokes, hoping she would at least narrow her eyes or say something vaguely sarcastic. And, just before she'd gone to bed, he'd tried blatantly shutting the book she was right in the middle of reading, hoping to start an actual row. He winced at that last one now, feeling guilty in retrospect. She'd had absolutely no response, however, other than to stare down at her own lap before turning away to lie on her side and close her eyes.

Now, shuffling again across the pitch dark room toward the bed, he wondered if he had been misguided, if she could have since been thinking how much of a prat he had been to her. But it wasn't as if he hadn't tried the opposite line of tactical moves prior to his more desperate attempts. He'd tried to talk to her about her parents, tried reassuring her that they would be fine. But not being able to bloody locate them was quickly putting a damper on that particularly thin promise...

He didn't know what else to do, and to be honest, he was nearly on the verge of actually crying about it.

He crawled into bed next to her, eyes adjusted enough now that he could make out her outline, in front of him, her back toward him. He stared at the shape of her hair, unruly curls casting lighter and darker patterns against the pillowcase. He followed them with his tired eyes, not really feeling the pull back to sleep, despite exhaustion.

He knew what she was thinking. Knowing what she had done, she was terrified of all possible outcomes that didn't feel entirely too perfect to be realistic. If she couldn't fix them back, she would either be forced to go to Ministry authorities for help, thus revealing her use of illegal magic in the first place, or be presented with the knowledge that she had personally altered her own parents, for good. If she _could_ fix them, she would be faced with their inevitable questions, hurt at her betrayal of their trust, and confusion over the glaring gaps in their knowledge of the wizarding world.

Of course there was no way she could feel happy about any of it. He hadn't expected her to be carefree or joyful, even to see her smile again until this chapter was over. But he longed for emotion, anything now that could show him she was there, inside, and not lost in thoughts and fears she couldn't share with him.

More than anything, he just wanted her to be alright. Angry, afraid, anxious... Fine. But alive.

He sniffed, and he suddenly noticed how quiet it had become. Her usual deep breathing had been replaced with eerie silence, and before he could be rational about it, a small bubble of panic leapt from his chest to his throat.

"Hermione-" he whispered, but he was saved the necessity of further words when she shifted, proving she was still breathing.

He clamped his mouth shut, feeling oddly nervous.

He swallowed hard and stared at her again, willing himself not to blink too often, fearing he would lose his paper thin grasp on self control.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, and he flinched, startled by the sound of her voice.

He needed so desperately to get this right. What should he say? How could he get her to keep talking? He knew he was taking too long to reply, but he had no other choice. Maybe, if the right words sprang miraculously to mind, she might even-

His heart stopped as she turned over to face him, eyes faintly glowing in the dark.

He couldn't speak... He simply went on staring. Only now, he could look right back into her gorgeous eyes. It might have occurred to him how this was clearly the longest he had ever spent openly gazing at her, if he hadn't been so preoccupied.

Eventually, with a sad sort of crease developing between her eyes, her lids slipped shut again. He sucked in a protesting breath at her leaving him alone. And he suddenly could not take one more second of it.

Not one.

"Hermione," he said, roughly, sitting up, "wake up!"

He grasped her left arm and gently, but purposefully, rolled her onto her back. Her eyes popped open, and she stared up at him, shocked.

A heart pounding moment passed between them before she moved as if to turn to her opposite side again, away from him. But there was no way in hell-

"Oi!"

He suddenly climbed on top of her, straddling her and holding her flat on her back, his hands clamped around her shoulders.

"Ron!" she cried. "Get off-"

"Hang on!" he shouted over her. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm a gigantic wanker for this, but bloody hell, you are going to talk to me before I have a mental breakdown!"

She breathed heavily as her eyes darted, wide open and dumbfounded.

"Listen!" he pressed on, vaguely aware that hot tears had leaked from his eyes and were rolling down his cheeks pathetically. "You are bloody amazing. You're brilliant and perfect and you have a mad temper and you love things intensely and hate them sometimes just as much. But right now, you're not showing me if you're angry or overwhelmed or- or anything else! And if it's me, I'll leave. If you can't stand me right now or think I've been too big of a prat to you, it's probably because I've been trying for _days_ to think of clever ways to snap you out of whatever _this_ is. I may not be inside your head, but I can usually guess. I know you well enough now for that, I think. Only this time... I have no fucking clue what's going on!"

Her lips parted as his tears dripped down to splatter the front of her shirt. Her eyes softened and her muscles relaxed underneath him.

"Just... please," he continued, in a much smaller voice, "say _anything_... and bloody _mean_ it!"

Her face scrunched up a bit, and he was instantly full of regret as she shut her eyes and began to shake with silent sobs. The phrase 'worst idea ever' came to mind...

He couldn't even bring himself to curse. He closed his eyes for a second before releasing his hold on her, lifting his hands from her shoulders, and-

Her hands shot out to grab his thighs, in an insufficient attempt to hold him on top of her. But though her strength alone couldn't have stopped him moving, the fact that she had made her desires clear to him had done it just fine.

He gawked at her as she gripped his pyjamas in her fists.

"Don't leave," she whispered, tears coating her face now.

He shook his head slowly, lightly dropping his hands to her arms again. He found himself utterly speechless, uncertain if the result he'd received now was anything close to positive... or somehow more detrimental than her silence had been...

"I can't d-do this without you!"

"Bollocks," he sniffed. "Of course you can."

"Don't say that!"

She sat up so quickly that he flinched involuntarily. But he froze again as his eyes met hers, now inches from his own. Her hot breath puffed against his lips, her hands had slipped further up his legs, and her knuckles were digging into the elastic at his hipbones.

Shivering, he moved his hands to her neck, so gently he might as well have not been touching her at all. His thumbs moved across her jaw, and her nails dug painfully into the sensitive skin above the waistband of his pyjamas.

"I was expecting you to hit me or something," he said softly. "Didn't really want to make you cry..."

"You didn't stop to think I'd be bloody upset by you leaving?!" she demanded, shrilly.

"I'm not leaving!" he protested. "I really thought _you_ might want rid of me since I'm clearly not contributing anything useful if you can't even shout at me to make yourself feel better!"

"Why would that make me feel better?!"

He pushed his thumbs across her cheeks, drying them a bit in the process. Even in the dark, he could see how red her face was.

"Isn't it working?" he countered, nearly distracted completely off course for a second by her fingers curling into his pyjama elastic... "Tell me this isn't better than what we were doing before!"

"I didn't feel _anything_ before, Ron! I was so distracted trying to do everything right! I was making it easier! I c-can't fall apart when they need me!"

He pulled her head forward, pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. His heart was beating way too fast now.

"I'm not just here to help you with spellwork," he said, lowering his voice. He pulled his head back again, opened his eyes, and dropped his hands to her shoulders. "In fact," he added, "I reckon I'd be just as helpful _without_ my bloody wand."

"Ron-"

"No, listen. You're worried you'll be too upset to do a proper job fixing them when we find them, yeah? Then why can't you use me for yourself? When you're angry or frustrated or scared... just let it out on me, instead of holding it in."

Her eyes widened, and she was looking at him with such admiration.

She slid her hands unconsciously up inside his shirt, along his sides...

"I don't want to hurt you…" she said in a tiny voice. "You've had far too much on you as it is..."

"Trust me," he sighed, "it's way worse the other way. At least if you're angry I can understand it. Got no idea if you hate me if I don't think you'll tell me about it..."

Her lips twitched.

"Really," he added. "I can take it."

"Ron," she whispered, hands slipping a tad higher up inside his shirt... "you're the best thing in my _life_ , you know. I really, _really_ don't want to ruin it."

His ears burned at her unexpected compliment.

"Best- blimey... You sure you're talking to the right person?"

"Stop."

He grinned at her then, from relief at getting a reaction from her at all tonight and also to make sure she knew he was joking.

"Can't ruin anything," he muttered, lifting his hands to her face again and angling his head to kiss her. She made a strangled sort of sound as her arms encircled him, still inside his shirt, flattening her palms to his back.

He couldn't explain the bliss he felt at kissing her, and being kissed back with such enthusiasm. Selfishly, he couldn't help it. But he'd also have gladly given this up if it meant comforting her in everything else, instead...

Not that he wasn't thrilled he wouldn't have to...

When their lips parted again, it was as if in slow motion, lingering so close they were sharing the same air.

"Can't feel my legs..." she finally whispered.

"Oh, shit..." he half-laughed, letting her go and climbing off of her. She smiled up at him and reached for his hand, tugging him down to lie beside her.

"Your fault if I'm a wreck now around you..." she mumbled as he happily gathered her up against the front of his body, tangling their legs and brushing her hair back from her face. "Also, don't think you're off the hook for literally holding me down against my will..."

"That sounds awful..."

"It should!"

"Had to snap you out of it!" he reasoned, and she gave him the tiniest smile of infinite reassurance. "Blimey, I actually can't believe that worked. If it hadn't, I think my only option left would have been to try and make you row with me by just taking all your books away and-"

"I can still hit you, you know..."


	3. Lithium

_Lithium is a soft, silver-white metal that belongs to the alkali metal group of chemical elements. Under standard conditions it is the lightest metal and the least dense solid element. Like all alkali metals, lithium is highly reactive and flammable. Because of its high reactivity, lithium never occurs freely in nature, and instead, only appears in compounds, which are usually ionic. Due to its solubility as an ion, it is present in ocean water._

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 **3\. Lithium**

 **30 July 1998**

"Hang on. _That_ one's Draco?"

They were lying on their backs in the sand outside Shell Cottage, looking up at the night sky. Harry scooted closer to Ron, pressed their heads together, and closed one eye, attempting to follow Ron's pointed finger along the stars in question.

Harry wrinkled his nose, unconvinced.

"Isn't that a leg of Hercules?"

"Honestly, it's as if you were both stricken with astronomical amnesia..." Hermione sighed. "Or did we not take the same courses for years?"

"You've only got yourself to blame," Ron pointed out, shifting around in the sand and continuing to stare up at the sky. "Pretty sure I completed a total of zero assignments for that class unassisted..."

"That's a lie..." Hermione scoffed.

"The real point here is," Harry cut in, tilting his head fully sideways against Ron's shoulder, "where the hell is Draco?"

Ron chuckled.

"Oh, move over..."

Hermione wedged herself in between them, her head pillowed by Ron's left bicep. She took his right hand, extended his index finger once more, and lifted, closing an eye as she guided him slowly.

"Right... there..." she said, moving his hand along the curve of the constellation.

"Ah, yeah," Harry said, "I think I see him now."

"Go on, then," Ron prodded, nudging Hermione with his shoulder, his finger still pointing up, Hermione's fingers now loosely wrapped around his wrist, "give us the dippers again. We're daft and lost them."

"Honestly?" she laughed, dropping Ron's wrist and turning to face him, her nose brushing his shoulder. "I can't help you if you can't even find those. They barely covered them, first year... expected we had that much sorted-"

"We resent that statement," Harry interrupted.

"Nevermind," Ron yawned, grinning at her. "I've got a better idea..."

He sat up, jostling Harry and Hermione both in the process. Hermione glared at him while Harry straightened his glasses. Clearing his throat, Ron reached for the bottom of his shirt and removed it with a fizz of static.

"I'm right here, mate," Harry announced, as Hermione blushed.

"Sod off," Ron grinned over his shoulder at them. "Harry'll be an old man in-" He glanced at his watch. "-less than five minutes."

"Only catching up to _us_. So you're calling me old already, then?" Hermione teased.

"You _are_ the oldest..."

Ron stood quickly as Hermione tossed his discarded shirt at his bare back in retaliation.

"So... what does my birthday have to do with you stripping?" Harry inquired, standing and brushing sand from his trousers.

"Don't answer that..." Hermione warned. Ron laughed as Harry shook his head in mock disgust.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron urged... as he reached to unbutton his jeans, "don't you fancy a swim?"

A shaky sort of breath escaped her as Ron unzipped and proceeded to shimmy his way out of tight denim...

Harry, oblivious to her state of mind, shrugged and removed his own shirt, back toward her. Ron took a couple steps forward, to stare down at Hermione where she was still half-lying in the sand. His ears and nose were tinted a delicate shade of pink... and he was wearing nothing but a pair of maroon boxers, at this point.

He gave her a questioning raise of an eyebrow, but she merely responded by raking her eyes down his nearly naked body. He cleared his throat louder this time, as her eyes lingered somewhere close to his thighs...

She stood, then, without looking directly at him. And, in one quick motion, she pulled off her own shirt, following it by sliding off her jeans and walking smoothly past Ron and Harry both, toward the silvery glowing surface of the water... in only a white bra and knickers.

Ron cursed unintelligibly, and Harry lightly kicked him in the shin.

"Didn't think this all the way through?" Harry teased.

It was becoming rather imperative that Ron submerge himself in cool water...

He followed Harry quickly to the shore, shaking himself as he watched Hermione move further out to knee-deep waves.

"Wait for us!" Harry called out to her, glancing back over his shoulder at Ron.

She turned to face them, and, for a moment, Ron's neck burned, having personally put himself directly in position for public humiliation. But Harry passed them both and dived into the waves, ignoring Hermione's shy expression and Ron's slightly dazed path in her direction.

Once they were standing close enough to touch if they reached out, Hermione shrugged at him.

"You've seen more than this," she reasoned, at a notch above a whisper.

"Different when we're alone," he muttered. "Not to mention, it's been a while..."

"Less than a week," she laughed. "But yes. It's rubbish. Things are much better at home now though. Mum and Dad have been coming round to everything a bit. Well, you've seen..."

"Yeah," he smiled in return. "You're not going back tonight?"

"Of course not. Want to stay with you."

"Brilliant."

"Bugger..." Harry muttered, from somewhere farther out to sea, as a wave crashed over him.

Ron licked his bottom lip and glanced at his watch.

"It's officially his birthday," he said to Hermione. "Reckon we ought to help him celebrate?"

She grinned up at him as he took her hand.

They splashed further out, collapsing in the waves as they reached Harry, Ron grabbing him round the neck and dunking them both under the next wave. When they resurfaced, Hermione was brushing soaked curls out of her eyes and the moon was reflecting so brightly off the water that it was nearly blinding.

"Prat," Harry snorted.

But before they could recover, Hermione suddenly splashed them both, catching them off guard.

"Gonna let her get away with that?" Harry spluttered. But Ron was already lunging for her as she screamed, kicking as he grabbed her round the waist.

"Look over there for a second, mate," Ron instructed, vaguely gesturing toward the nothing in the opposite direction.

His hands flattened up Hermione's bare back, her bare leg was sliding between his...

He shuddered out a heavy breath and distantly registered how funny it was to be on the same level with her, floating in the water, just before he pressed the front of his body to hers and kissed her. Skin slid together, slick with salt water, and the cotton of his underwear was billowing a bit and creating basically zero barrier between them. Her hands moved to his waist, pressing against wet cotton. Her hair was cold against his face, and her leg was wrapping around his hips and-

He separated from her, shuddering with pleasure.

"Ruddy... hell..." he breathed, "let's remember exactly where _that_ left off..."

She pressed her lips together and balanced with her hands on his shoulders, staring slightly drunkenly back into his eyes.

"Best idea ever?" Ron suggested.

"You two disgust me!" Harry called out.

"Happy birthday!" they shouted in unison.


	4. Beryllium

_**A/N:** Okay, this chapter really IS **rated M**..._

* * *

 _Beryllium is a_ _divalent_ _element which occurs naturally only in combination with other elements in minerals. As a free element, it is a steel-gray, strong, lightweight and brittle_ _alkaline earth metal_ _. Beryllium is used primarily as a hardening agent in_ _alloys_ _, notably_ _beryllium copper_ _. Beryllium is corrosive to tissue, and can cause a chronic allergic disease in some people._

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 **4\. Beryllium**

 **19 August 1998**

Ron thudded to the ground, on his back, just outside The Burrow. Far overhead, his bedroom window flew open, and he could make out, even in the dark, a bushy head poking frantically through.

"Ron! What's happened?!"

When all he could do was cough in response, the head vanished from his view. And, with a succinct crack, she had disapparated. Half a second later, she appeared beside him, looking panicked. She knelt over him as he tried to sit up.

"Ron, your hands!"

"I know," he sputtered, pushing further up onto his elbows and shaking dirt from his hair.

She reached for his wrist to help him, but he pulled back suddenly. She flinched, expression morphing from surprised to slightly hurt, but he quickly cleared his throat to explain.

"Don't want you to get this bloody rash."

"What is it?" she asked, tentatively. "Are you hurt anywhere else? From upstairs, it sounded like you must have broken something, landing like that..."

"No," he tried to reassure her, but his raspy voice wasn't helping. He cleared his throat again. "Apparently I'm allergic to metal, or something."

"What?" She stared at him, blinking.

"Dunno. We were in this dusty vault sorting through objects to find cursed rubbish as a sort of exam when I started feeling like my hands were on fire. Kept working for a while because I thought I'd found a curse and that's why I had a reaction, but Harry checked it and there was nothing."

"How can you be allergic to metal? Wouldn't the horcruxes have caused the same reaction when you touched them?"

"Must be something that wasn't in any of them. The Auror I checked out with reckons it could be nickel, which he says is in a lot of cheaper jewelry. Remind me to spend a fortune on rings..."

She blushed, and he looked away, realising what he'd implied.

"If it's an allergy," she moved on, "I can't catch it from touching you."

She reached hesitantly for his hand again.

"You sure?"

"Yes, definitely."

Her eyes searched his as he bent his knees up and slouched forward.

"I'm alright," he said softly, holding out his hand for her to inspect. "It's just bloody annoying."

She very gently took his hand in both of hers and began delicately running her fingers over the rash that coated nearly all of his skin from fingers to mid-forearms.

"Tell me you went to St Mungo's..."

He smiled at her as she narrowed her eyes back at him.

"Yeah, gave me a ruddy potion for allergy, and now I can't stand up straight..."

"Must have been strong," she considered. "Those can make you dizzy. Does that explain you apparating directly onto your back?"

"Sure does."

"Where's Harry?"

"He told me to come back home, then went to explain what was happening and turn in our paperwork."

She chewed her lip, looking stressed...

"What?"

"Nothing..."

He stared at her for a long moment, as she continued to lightly inspect his hand...

"Tell me," he pushed.

She let go of his hand and stood, extending both hands back down in his direction to help him up. Once he was standing, he swayed slightly, grimacing.

"You've been training for barely a week and already you're..." she trailed off.

"This isn't like that," he tried to assure her, linking arms with her as she prepared to apparate back upstairs with him. "Can't help what I'm allergic to... It's not like we were doing anything particularly dangerous-"

They vanished with a pop and reappeared a second later in the centre of his lantern-lit bedroom. He clutched her arm tightly to balance.

"Lie down," she instructed. "Your mum and dad are at Bill and Fleur's and Ginny's out flying with George. My parents have that conference tonight. Alright if I stay over?"

"Always alright," he grinned as he stumbled to bed and collapsed on his back with another soft groan.

She crossed her arms and stared down at him.

"You sure you aren't hurt anywhere else?"

"It would be a surprise to me, too, if we found out I was."

"So, when I take off your jeans, I'm not going to find scratches or bruises to prove you're a liar?"

His lips curled lopsidedly.

"Let's find out."

She shook her head at him before smiling and climbing onto the bed next to him, kneeling at his thighs as she unbuttoned his jeans. He held his breath as she unzipped and tugged.

"Good job distracting me..." he muttered.

She grinned at his knees as she worked his jeans the rest of the way off, pulling them free from his feet and tossing them to the floor.

"Now," she said, eyes sliding back up his body, "did the healers put anything on your hands or give you something to bring home? A salve or..."

"Oh yeah," he nodded toward his discarded jeans, "in the pocket. I forgot."

She reached over the side of his bed and found a corked bottle of clear-ish paste in his right front pocket, removing the stopper and crawling further up the bed as he propped himself up against the wall.

"They said I could put that on every couple of hours," he added, as she swirled the contents of the bottle.

"Want me to do it for you?"

"Of course," he smiled.

"Better take off your shirt."

He did as instructed and settled back against the wall again. She reached for his hand and tipped a small glob of the paste out onto his palm. Very gently, she smoothed it over his hand and arm, sniffing.

"Looks awful, yeah?"

"I just feel bad for you," she sniffed again. "Is it very uncomfortable?"

"Well, I _can_ tell that stuff is already working. The other one itches like a bastard... Burns, too."

"Give it here," she instructed, finished with the first arm.

She silently rubbed the ointment into the raised and reddened skin of his left hand and forearm, corking the bottle again and setting it on his bedside table.

"Don't touch _anything_ ," she said, firmly. "You've got to let that soak in."

"That's no fun, with you staying over..."

She smiled, but, looking a bit distracted, she sighed and tucked her legs underneath her.

"Ron, will you promise me something?"

He held his hands out, awkwardly hovering, before slowly giving up and lowering them gently to rest on top of his stomach.

"I'm sure I will," he said. "What am I promising?"

"Just... I leave in less than two weeks-"

"Twelve days," he interrupted.

She smiled at him again, a bit sadly this time.

"Right. And I just don't- I can't go away thinking you won't take care of yourself. I know you don't _try_ to get hurt, and this is different, you're right. But... just be careful while I'm away, will you?"

"Harry knows you'll kill him if I come home with a single scratch. We'll be fine," he smiled back at her.

She studied him for a moment.

"I'm going to make you a list."

He wrinkled his nose.

"Makes sense. Of what?"

She laughed and gently moved his right arm out so she could lie down next to him, curling against his side, head on his shoulder.

"All the things you need to have handy, just in case."

"Like you had for the three of us last year?"

"Right."

She slid her leg over his, and he closed his eyes.

"Still can't use my hands?" he mumbled.

"No."

She sat up again... ran the tip of her index finger down the centre of his chest. His eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded.

"Not fair."

"Want me to stop?" she whispered, as her hand hovered just above the elastic of his boxers.

His eyebrows shot up.

"Better not."

She smiled, cheeks flushing as she quickly removed her own shirt and pressed her palm flat to his stomach.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily.

She moved his arms further away from his torso before flattening herself to his chest, tilting her chin up and kissing his jaw. She worked her hands underneath him to hold his back as she kissed her way to his ear, his lips parting as he squirmed slightly underneath her.

"Fuck..."

His fingertips grazed her side.

"Hands," she reprimanded, lifting herself off of him and sliding out of bed.

"Hermione-" he started to protest, sitting all the way up before she reached to unfasten her jeans. "Oh."

She grinned at him, cheeks darkening to a blotchy rose.

"It's really strange doing this," she admitted.

"Cheers!"

She laughed, shaking her head.

"No, I mean... taking off my own clothes while you watch..." she reached behind herself for her bra snap.

"Well, you're doing a great job..."

He shivered, and she licked her lips, looking away as she unhooked her bra and let it fall to his floor. He exhaled sharply, and she pressed her lips together. Eyes still averted, she climbed back into bed and scooted close, pressing her naked chest to his side as she reached down for his boxers.

His hand nearly flew to her back, to press her tighter against his body, but he remembered at the last possible second, hand hovering so close to her that he could feel the heat from her skin on his palm.

"Careful," she whispered, tugging off his underwear as her hardened nipples rubbed against his stomach.

"Oh, God..."

She rolled to her back, shimmied out of her knickers, and turned back over, lying on her stomach, next to him, eyes darting until he finally held her gaze.

"Fucking hell, I'm going to miss you," he breathed.

Her fingertips skimmed his chest before smoothing up the centre, resting her chin against his ribs.

"I already miss your _hands_ ," she teased, suppressing a grin.

"You sure your back doesn't need some of this salve? Or your thighs, or your-"

But she cut him off with a kiss, flattening herself on top of him again until her legs parted, knees digging into the mattress on either side of him. Her tongue ran across his lower lip, her hands gripped his biceps...

His hands attached themselves to her arse as she pressed her hips down.

She pulled her lips away from his just as he moved up and gripped her waist with both hands, sliding into her.

" _Ohh…_ Ron, you cheated!"

He shuddered and pressed his head back firmly against the wall.

"Complaining?" he managed to breathe out.

She pressed her palms to the wall on either side of his head, to help out...

"We'll... just have to... start over... in a couple... hours..."

Her lips dragged an open-mouthed kiss across his cheek to his lips as he weaved his right hand up the back of her neck, with blatant and utter disregard now for previous rules.

"That's too bad..." he muttered, closing his eyes.


	5. Boron

_Boron is essential to life. Small amounts of boron compounds play a strengthening role in the cell walls of all plants, making boron necessary in soils. Borates have low toxicity in mammals, but are more toxic to arthropods and are used as insecticides._

* * *

 **5\. Boron**

 **31 August 1998**

The storm was picking up, and Ron wondered if he should just go ahead and apparate inside the house. Of course Hermione wouldn't mind, but he wasn't sure what her parents would think about finding him on their sofa when they got back.

Presently, he was sitting on the bench in their back garden, waiting for Hermione to get home from a dinner she had accompanied her parents to under the notion that she might be able to scarper with him to Grimmauld Place later on if she said sufficient goodbyes to her parents at the house after dinner tonight instead. He thoroughly approved of this plan, but it was getting quite late, sun obviously setting, even though all he could see at the moment was an expanse of gray clouds overhead, in every direction. And he wasn't entirely sure Hermione would see his point of view on staying up all night to spend as much time together as possible before she left on the train the next morning. She would have Prefect duties and wouldn't really be able to sleep much on the train...

The rain started suddenly, splattering his hair and shoulders. But it cooled his skin a bit, and he didn't really mind. It had been so hot this week, and after a day at training, he would welcome a cold shower.

Lightning flashed, and he looked up, considering his options as the sky promptly opened over him, rain abruptly pissing down. He vaguely regretted his positive outlook on the shower from seconds earlier… and he hastily decided that huddling against the back wall might be preferable, as the eaves could shelter him from the full brunt of the storm.

He stood, boots squelching in thickening mud. As he turned, whipping soaked hair out of his eyes, he saw the lights flick on, inside the house, and Hermione appeared, on the other side of the glass door, eyebrows lifting to her fringe as she unlocked the bolt and opened the door for him.

"You could have come in!" she called, as he ducked his head and pushed forward, assaulted now by the increasingly heavy downpour as he made his way to her.

"I'm filthy," he grimaced, as he stood half a metre from the entrance, taking in the sight of Hermione in her purple dress, bits of her hair pulled away from her face... She looked so perfectly clean and beautiful, and he was dripping into the flower beds.

She smiled at him, and he shrugged, smiling back.

"Hand me your wand? Mine's in the kitchen."

He removed it from his back pocket, offered it to her, and she waved it over him, squeezing some of the water from his clothing and hair as he slipped off his boots, leaving them on the back step.

"Come in, and I'll do it again," she said, moving back.

He stepped inside, carefully, and she flicked his wand at him again as her parents came into the room from the hallway.

"That's useful," her father remarked as Ron's clothes dried a bit more.

Ron reached back to shut the door but remained standing on the patch of tile that separated the door from the carpeted sitting room.

"Hullo," he said, nodding in her parents' direction. "Sorry about..." He gestured at himself vaguely. "I'll just stay here and wait, yeah?"

Hermione reached for his hand, slipping his wand into it as she smiled up at him.

"It's alright. You can come up with me."

His shirt was still soaked, clinging fiercely to his skin, but he wasn't actively dripping anymore, at least. Her parents had distracted themselves with a conversation about work, so Ron followed Hermione cautiously through the kitchen, where she retrieved her wand from her small handbag and continued on to the stairs.

He followed her up to her room and was unsurprised to find her trunk and one additional case already closed and stacked by the window. She flicked her wand over them, and they vanished.

When she turned to face him, her eyes were a bit bloodshot, and he suddenly noticed the tendrils of curled frizz sticking out from the neatly tucked back portions of her hair on either side of her face. The detail made him smile, for some reason, and she sighed, slipping off her dressy shoes and walking up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his wet shirt.

"You alright?" he asked against the top of her head.

"Just trying not to think about it…"

"Tomorrow, you mean?"

She nodded against his chest.

"Want to follow my trunk and meet me back at Grimmauld Place?" she asked, changing the subject, fingers curling absently into his belt loops as he smoothed her hair with one hand and played with the zipper on the back of her dress with the other.

"Yeah?" he grinned.

"I told them already," she explained, pulling back to look up at him, "so we don't have to wait. They're tired from work anyway and probably won't stay up late."

"Could have saved me getting soaked if I'd known that would work out so well..."

"Sorry..."

She wrinkled her nose and slid her hand up the back of his wet shirt.

He smiled at her and shook his head.

"Reckon you can send my boots along? Aim for the bath tub... they're disgusting."

"Come inside next time," she huffed, lifting up onto her toes to kiss his chin before letting him go.

"Didn't think your parents would be thrilled to find me in their house. Sort of looks like I'm having a laugh at Muggle security..."

She did laugh, shrugging.

"I _could_ keep you out for them, if I wanted to..."

He narrowed his eyes at her as she headed for the door.

"I'll be over in just a minute."

He smiled, and she turned to descend the stairs. Spinning quickly, he disapparated, ready to get the hell out of his wet clothes, which were beginning to feel a bit on the cold side against his goose-fleshed skin.

As he arrived, he took one step forward, through the room he'd only half set up since moving in two days prior... and ran immediately into a low-hanging cobweb.

"Bloody! Fucking-" He ducked and shook himself frantically. "Shitshitshit!"

He flailed, sputtering as he ineffectually batted at his own hair for potential spiders. Impossibly, the web seemed to have attached to the whole front of him. Or his skin was simply crawling from implication. Either way, he wasn't taking any chances.

He staggered out of his jeans, managing to unfasten them while hopping from leg to leg. Kicking them away from his body, he viciously swatted through his hair with both hands again.

"...ruddy spider twats..."

His legs and arms tingled with goose flesh as he aimed his wand across the room to the dreaded Crime Scene. Flicking, he attempted to banish the mostly invisible web strands that had previously attacked him, unwilling to get any closer to investigate his success afterward.

Shivering, he clamped his wand between his teeth and glanced down his front to check for web remnants...

It was there. On the floor. Half a metre away. Half an inch wide, dark brown, eight bloody legs. Boldly crawling across his floor with no regard for his state of mind.

"Shit!"

He narrowly caught his wand as it fell out of his mouth, and he leapt up onto his bed, shifting his weight back and forth to balance.

A loud crack of someone apparating echoed through his room, startling him. And then she was there.

Hermione.

"Oh my God, save me."

She stared, wide-eyed, at the scene, taking in his disheveled state, discarded jeans-

"Hermione, it's going under the fucking bed!"

"Is there any point asking for an account of what's happened since I last saw you, two minutes ago?"

"I'm serious! Can you see it?!"

"Can I see _what_?" she gawked at him.

"The little cocksucker spider that's probably rebuilding its damn web underneath where we're going to sleep tonight!"

She pressed her lips tight together.

"Calm down, it's okay," she said gently, moving forward to kneel at the foot of the bed. Ron flinched as he watched her.

"Can you see it?!"

She paused, lighting the tip of her wand.

"Oh! Yes, I see. I've got it, Ron."

With a sharp flash and puff, she straightened up, still on her knees, and stared back up at him where he was frozen in place, feet sinking into his mattress, waiting for her to confirm her kill.

"Killed it, banished it," she said.

He let out a heavy breath. She was clearly trying to hold back an amused grin. He could feel his hair sticking up at all sorts of odd angles from his assault on it moments previous.

"Okay, this feels a bit silly all of a sudden..."

She burst out laughing, and he shrugged.

"Look, can you just check over there-" he gestured toward where the web had set upon him "-and be sure he hasn't got a mate waiting to attack us in our sleep?"

"You keep talking about sleep like that's something you plan to do tonight..."

She stood, and he grinned after her, watching as she thoroughly checked the opposite side of the room. Waving her wand twice, she cleared away any remaining evidence of the web and turned back to face him.

It was only then that he realised how cold he was in his wet shirt and slightly damp boxers. He climbed down from the bed, shivering, and approached her.

"Can you do me one more favour and check my hair? I swear it felt like a whole nest of them was rooting around up there..."

She smiled kindly at him as he ducked forward, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers gently through his hair for him.

"All clear."

He exhaled, fully relieved.

"Ron, you're freezing."

"I know..."

She reached for the bottom of his shirt and peeled it off of him, hanging it over the back of a chair to dry.

She looked up at him for a moment, cheeks tinged a pretty pink. The past few minutes replayed themselves. And he blushed, laughing.

"You saved my life," he joked, rolling his eyes at himself.

"That was a record, I think..."

"Of what?" he asked, warily.

"Most terrified I've ever seen you of something thousands of times smaller than you..." She bit her lip, corners of her mouth twitching.

"I owe you big..." he laughed. "But first, I desperately need a shower. I'm sure I can still feel bits of ruddy web on my skin..."

"Go on," she grinned. "I'll watch over your room. Make sure nothing else is coming to get you..."

"My hero."


End file.
